


Stone Cold Fire

by Pickl3lily



Series: KillerWave to feel something - oneshots [3]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Caitlin is so done., F/M, Gen, Mick POV-ish, Nightmares., Unashamed punning.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 02:16:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6546424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pickl3lily/pseuds/Pickl3lily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course it would be a metahuman. Mick tries to help Caitlin with something benign to make up for almost killing her, because he certainly wasn't going to apologise, and is promptly reminded why he doesn't do nice things. Because they bite him in the arse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stone Cold Fire

A metahuman. Of course it was. What else would it be in Central City? Mick was, for perhaps the first time since early childhood, innocently minding his own business on the way to meet Snart at Saints and Sinners, when he saw her. Doctor Snow, fumbling with her purse, and three bags of groceries, obviously trying to extract keys to open the door she was currently struggling in front of. Now Mick isn’t exactly the prime example of gentleman, he’ll never be commended for, or looked to on being a prime example of how to treat women, this was true; but he hated harming them for no reason. If the woman was another con, or a cop or a hooker who thought she could steal more than she’d earned, then he didn’t mind fighting them, but women like doctor Snow – _ladies_ , well, that was a whole other story.

“Here. Let me.” He tried for a reassuring tone as he hoisted two of the bags out of her arms so that she could open her door, but it still came out as rumbling as ever, if a bit softened by the tone. She didn’t notice the familiarity of the voice at first, he could tell; if she had there was no way she’d allow him to take the bags as she finally freed the keys, turned them in the lock and finally swept away the fan of hair that had, until that point, obscured her view of him. The soft words of gratitude died on her lips as she finally noticed who was standing in her open doorway, and then the icy wall he’d noticed when he’d held her captive slammed back into place. “Oh. Well, great; now I have to move, _again_. Why can’t you criminals ever find out where _Cisco_ lives instead?” Her words of exasperation were sharply spat at him and her tone frosty – shame she was such a good girl, Mick couldn’t help but lament – Len would probably get on with her like a house on fire.

A small smile fell across his face for both his internal thoughts of fire, and also the way that the woman tried to intimidate him having freed her bags from his grip and deposited them in her doorway. “Look Doc, what happened before was business; I ain’t gonna apologise, but it wasn’t exactly personal – you don’t have to move, but - ”, he broke his sentence and peered into her doorway slightly, “you wanna be safe, get a new locking system – can pick that one in my sleep.”

He could tell by the way her brow furrowed and her lips pursed that a scathing retort was on the tip of her tongue, but he never got to hear it, because that was the precise moment that the meta showed up. He didn’t even get a warning before the look on her face changed to fear at something behind him, at which point a burst of pain emitting from his shoulder spread through his body and his vision whited out from the pain; next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes to an elegantly decorated sitting room that he immediately imagined burning. “Oh good, you’re up.” Snow’s voice cut into his thoughts of fire, irritation lacing the words, but it sounded almost as if there was a touch of concern there too – probably that hippogriff oath, or whatever it was called. “Guess you being a criminal isn’t the worst thing in the world – most people get a shot of whatever it was he hit you with would just go straight down; you at least managed to take him into unconsciousness with you.” Here she began fussing around, touching at his head which he tolerated as he listened, but quickly swatted her away when she tried shining a light into his eyes. Sadist.

Of course her lips pursed again, and she took on a disapproving tone as she began babbling at him again, “Oh honestly. I’m checking to make sure you don’t have a concussion- I am a doctor you know. You’re lucky I was grateful for the save, however, unintentional it may have been. I pulled you in here and told the Flash that I knocked him out with my handbag. You _are_ technically still a wanted criminal, after all, so - ” It was here that she broke off, taking in a quick gasp, eyes going wide, falling back onto her haunches and out of his personal space. Her face had gone very white, and suddenly he was wondering if _she_ had something wrong with her. “You’re a criminal.” The words were hushed, and her face would have been pathetic were it not so comical, and Mick actually found himself laughing. “Well yeah – not just noticing are you? I could burn some stuff if it helps you remember?” At his teasing words, Snow let out a short, sharp bubble of laughter before swatting his arm playfully with a light-hearted “shut up”, and then froze, having realised what she had done before obviously deciding to fake confidence and intent. “Well, I’m sorry for having an adjustment period, only I’ve never harboured a fugitive before.” Although she had obviously tried to keep up the jovial tone, better to fake being at ease with, her words still stung and he found himself losing the usually-rare smile that had been lurking on his features. “”Guess I’ll just get outta your hair then. Forgot you were pure driven _Snow_ , too good to associate with a criminal, like me”. He swung his legs off the couch, and went to stand, ignoring her protests and purposefully raising his voice above whatever the hell she was trying to say, at which point, he felt a sharp pain in his chest and his vision began to tunnel. Swaying on the spot, he could hear Doctor Snow saying something but couldn’t make out the words; everything was muffled and he felt like he was drowning. Mick’s arms swung out blindly looking for purchase on something, anything, to steady himself, before landing on an arm.

Shockingly, Doctor Snow, whose arm it must have been, didn’t jerk away; instead a small but surprisingly firm hand settled over his own, and guided him back onto the couch. He didn’t release, the arm, just slid his hand down until it was resting on her wrist, and allowed himself the comfort of the soothing circles that her other hand was stroking onto his own. It wasn’t long before his vision had cleared up and he allowed himself to raise his head from its position between his knees, to look up and find himself catching a look of shock on her features. “I think we need to do some tests. And until you are able to stand up by yourself, it looks like I’m going to have to harbour you for just a little longer. You might as well call me Caitlin, but do _not_ think this means I forgive you; I could have died, and its only because I’m not a criminal like you, that I’m not allowing you to do so.”

Her tone was clipped, and she had become stony again, face hardened into as emotionless an expression as she could achieve, but there was pain reflected in her eyes now. Mick knew from experience how much pain could be a motivator, allowed her to drape a blanket over him and bit his tongue before he could make a harsh barb at the Doctor and forced himself to remain silent as she turned off the light, threatened him about behaving, and went off to bed. At least she brought in a red and orange lava lamp, which she placed in the corner of the room; if he squinted, it was almost like watching a flame and he was impressed at her thinking, as he allowed himself to be soothed by the dancing lights, slipping into a surprisingly restful sleep.

 

When he woke, it was nowhere near as peaceful; he jolted up and was on alert before he could even remember where he was. Quickly taking his bearings, he remembered the events of the night, and barely had a second to wonder what had woken him before he heard the screaming. Now Mick really wasn’t a gentleman, but if someone was attacking Snow, _Caitlin_ , then he could be next, right? So without realising that he was suddenly feeling well enough to stand and run, that was exactly what he did, right into the room down the hall, crashing through the door without even thinking to grab a weapon. Luckily there was no need, as the only threat Caitlin faced was being burrito-ed to death by her sheets. Between screams, the words ‘no’, ‘Jay’ and ‘Zoom’, were mumbled repeatedly and almost incoherently, before the screaming started again.

He re-evaluated the lack of danger as her arms thrashed wildly, and she smashed a vase on her bedside table, blood forming on the split knuckles; lunging forward, he quickly grabbed the wrist just before her hand made contact with the solid wood post of her bed. Of course it would be this point she woke up, eyes flying open, breath came in hard gasps and she lurched bodily back for a second. He hastily dropped her wrist, stepping back with his hands raised, palms towards her as if to say ‘I’m innocent’. He wished he’d stepped back further because then, inexplicably, she lurched just as quickly forward as she had gone back, landing in his arms and crying bodily onto his shoulder. He patted her head awkwardly and braced himself for a long night, when her breathing began to even out and he realised she had returned to sleep. He foolishly allowed relief to release the tension from his body as he tried to extricate her from his arms. “No!” The whimper was loud in his ear, and he almost dropped her, which he had no real qualms with, except that she had been good to him, and he hated owing people. With a huff he lifted her so she was cradled fully in his arms before lowering himself to lean against the headboard of her bed, holding her tight to his chest. This way, they’d be even on the nice act front and in the morning, he reasoned, when she tried to kill him because of course she would, then they’d be even in regards to her almost dying by his hand. He inclined his head slightly to the side as if considering and agreeing with this assessment, he settled himself in for an uncomfortable couple of hours. Pulling her tightly to his chest, he began humming as lowly as he could, a song he had often considered as his own personal theme tune since he had heard the song on the radio in the diner Lisa had dragged him and Lenny to. With the soft vanilla scent of Caitlin’s hair wafting into his nose, and soft feel of her skin and sheets again his skin, it wasn’t long before Mick was dozing, and he never even realised that for the first time since he was orphaned, his thoughts weren’t filled purely with fire that night.

_In his dream the flames licking at his skin were nothing new, in fact this was welcomed, but then they were suddenly engulfed in ice, a figure walking through the misty air towards him and suddenly a hand was being offered to him, flames coming to life again in the background, silhouetting the woman before him. Looking up he saw Caitlin’s face, lips blue and hair streaked white from frost, looking just as cold as she always acted, but her touch was warm. More than that, it burned in the best way, and suddenly the flames that were framing her in his vision weren’t drawing his gaze the same way – they were still beautiful, but this woman, this figment in front of him captured his attention and refused to let it go. Her hands cupped his cheeks, and he could feel as his skin sizzled and froze simultaneously, this woman was cold but filled with fire, and just as her lips were grazing his, the intensity of the flames overwhelmed him._

Waking with a start, he looked down to find Caitlin, staring up at him with fury burning behind her eyes; she crooked an eyebrow and he realised that he had been holding her too tightly for her to remove herself from his grasp. The sun was shining hotly on his skin, and her cheeks were flushed as he loosened his grip, just for her to graze against his morning glory. “Are you some sort of personal heater? You’re like a million degrees! Besides which, what the _hell_ are you doing in my bed?!”

As he sat watching her pace back and forth in front of him, ranting hotly about, whatever, the words she was saying melted away and he was hit with the memory of his dream, he found himself staring at her lips, wondering how sweetly her kisses would burn him. He began to plan how he should best begin the hardest and possibly most worthwhile con he would ever pull; how to melt the ice doctor’s heart. He was so screwed.

**Author's Note:**

> This changed so much from what I originally intended it to be, but hopefully you guys like it anyway... Please, feel free to review. Also, if you guys think I need to add a tag, please ask politely, and I'll see what I can do. :)


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